Chapter 1
PART 2: The House That Had Forgotten How to Be Happy
I stared at Daniel McCormack as though he had offered to place the entire Montana Territory in my hands.
Only an hour earlier, I had been wondering whether I would survive another night, and now a man whose children barely knew me had asked me to consider marriage.
“You cannot possibly mean that.”
“I do mean it, but I don't expect an answer.”
I looked toward the restaurant window, where two small faces were watching us.
“You're asking a stranger to become their mother.”
“I'm asking a stranger to consider whether she might someday want to become part of our family.”
His distinction mattered more than he seemed to realize.
“My mother-in-law spent four years telling me I was a failure because I never had children.”
Daniel's expression softened.
“I heard what you told me.”
“What makes you think I would be any better at raising yours?”
He looked at the children.
“Because you worried about their feelings before you worried about what the arrangement might give you.”
I had no answer to that.
Daniel explained that he would pay me fairly for a month's work, provide a separate room, and make no assumptions about what happened afterward.
He said marriage might end Blackwood's hopes of controlling him through Victoria, although it would not magically settle the water dispute.
I understood that choosing another bride might even make Blackwood more dangerous.
“Then I will accept the employment,” I said, “but I cannot promise you a marriage.”
“That is fair.”
“And I won't be treated as property because I need somewhere to sleep.”
His gaze did not waver.
“You have my word.”
When I climbed into his wagon beside Rachel and Lucas, I felt their curiosity pressing against me more heavily than the winter blankets.
Rachel examined my worn gloves and old carpet bag without speaking.
Lucas moved closer until his shoulder rested against my arm.
“Are you coming home with us?”
“For a little while.”
“Can you make biscuits?”
I almost laughed.
“Yes, Lucas, I can make biscuits.”
He smiled as though I had just passed an important examination.
Rachel remained silent until the wagon left the town behind.
“People don't usually stay very long,” she said.
Daniel glanced at her.
“Rachel.”
“It's true, Papa.”
I turned toward the girl.
“Then I suppose we'll have to see whether I can change that.”
She looked away, but I saw the faintest flicker of interest in her eyes.
The Diamond M Ranch appeared through the falling snow like a dark island surrounded by endless white fields.
Its buildings were sturdy but weathered, and the house stood beneath a cluster of bare cottonwood trees.
Inside, I discovered a kitchen crowded with unwashed dishes, a pantry arranged without order, and a stove surrounded by damp firewood.
The home was not neglected through laziness.
It was simply exhausted.
Rachel immediately reached for a heavy bucket beside the stove.
“I'll fetch more water.”
I stopped her.
“Show me where it comes from, and I'll do it.”
She frowned.
“Papa says I'm responsible for the kitchen.”
“Then perhaps you can be responsible for showing me how things work.”
Her expression suggested nobody had ever offered her that compromise.
By evening, I had prepared stew, washed the dishes, and found clean bedding in a wooden chest.
Daniel returned from the barn to discover Lucas asleep at the table and Rachel sitting with her hands folded instead of scrubbing pots.
For a moment, he simply stood in the doorway.
“Did something happen?”
“Mrs. Beth made us stop working,” Lucas announced sleepily.
I felt heat climb into my cheeks.
“Only after they had helped me.”
Daniel looked at Rachel.
“And how do you feel about that?”
She shrugged.
“Strange.”
His laughter was quiet but genuine.
That night, Daniel showed me a small bedroom beside the kitchen.
There was a narrow bed, a washstand, and a window overlooking the snowy yard.
It was the first room anyone had offered me since my husband's death without making me feel ashamed for occupying it.
On the desk lay a sheet of paper stating my wages and the terms of the month's employment.
Daniel had signed it already, leaving room for my signature.
“You'll have your own money, Beth, regardless of what happens between us.”
I looked at him with sudden gratitude.
“Thank you.”
He nodded toward my carpet bag.
“And whatever you were told before you came here, nobody in this house gets to decide your worth by counting your children.”
After he left, I sat on the bed and cried into my hands.
But for the first time in many months, the tears carried something besides despair.
Over the next two days, I began to understand how desperately the ranch needed another pair of adult hands.
Rachel had memorized chores that would have exhausted a grown woman, while Lucas followed his father everywhere because he feared being left behind.
Daniel worked before sunrise and long after dark, carrying responsibilities he rarely mentioned.
I discovered that his late wife had kept a small book of household accounts and ranch expenses, which Daniel had placed inside a kitchen drawer after her death.
He admitted that he had never been able to bring himself to study the pages carefully.
I began using the unused sheets to organize our supplies, never imagining how important the old entries might become.
On the third afternoon, hoofbeats sounded in the yard.
Daniel stepped outside, and I watched a broad-shouldered man dismount from a fine horse.
Harrison Blackwood wore expensive gloves and the expression of someone accustomed to having doors opened before he knocked.
“McCormack, I see you've found yourself a new housekeeper.”
Daniel moved between him and the doorway.
“What do you want, Harrison?”
Blackwood smiled without warmth.
“Only to offer you one final chance to be sensible.”
He unfolded a document and placed it against Daniel's chest.
I saw the words concerning the upper diversion gate before Daniel snatched the paper away.
“You know that water has served this ranch for years,” Daniel said.
Blackwood shrugged.
“And you know the gate stands on my land.”
Daniel's face drained of color.
“You wouldn't shut it during winter.”
Blackwood looked toward the barn and the cattle beyond it.
“Marry Victoria, and we can discuss an agreement.”
“Your daughter doesn't want me.”
“My daughter's wishes are not your concern.”
I stepped forward before fear could stop me.
“They ought to concern the man you expect her to marry.”
Blackwood examined me as though noticing an object that did not belong.
“And who might you be?”
“Beth.”
He smiled.
“Then Beth, I suggest you learn how little strangers understand about ranch business.”
Daniel told him to leave.
Blackwood replaced his gloves and mounted his horse.
“The county hearing is in ten days, Daniel, but you may find that waiting ten days is an expensive mistake.”
After he rode away, Daniel stood motionless with the document shaking in his hands.
“What does he mean?” I asked.
Daniel looked toward the frozen fields, where his cattle waited beside the narrow stream.
“He controls the upstream gate that feeds our winter watering ditch.”
I felt the cold return to my bones.
“Can he close it?”
Daniel's answer came almost as a whisper.
May you like
“He intends to close it tomorrow morning.”
